It’s then that I realize I might have smelled tequila on Kayden, but he’s so far from drunk, I’d be surprised if he had more than one shot. Adriel just used that to get me here, and I have the weirdest idea that he’s the one who told Gallo where to find us. Which is just me being crazy paranoid again, considering he warned us of his approach. Isn’t it?
Gallo gives us a deadpan look. “Let’s go inside.”
“Is that an order?” Kayden challenges. “Do you want to make this official? Should we call our attorney? Or perhaps your boss?”
Gallo bristles and fixes Kayden in a hateful stare. “We’re going to do this one way or another.”
“Yes,” Kayden agrees. “We are, but with two different agendas.”
I have no idea what that means, but Kayden urges me in front of him, placing himself between me and Gallo, and I have the sense that’s what he intends to do this entire encounter. I hurry to the door, feeling like I have two predators at my back about to go for each other’s throats. Kayden quickly joins me at the door, holding it open to allow me to enter the quaint little coffee shop, with a pair of large black chairs in one corner and a cluster of tables here and there. He indicates the largest of the quaint tables to our left, his hand on the small of my back as we travel in that direction.
Once there, I sit down facing the large window, the lights of the active street, where I’d rather be right about now, twinkling beyond the glass. Kayden claims the seat next to me, his arm resting protectively on the back of my chair. For extra measure, I pull my coat around myself, huddling into it rather than making an effort to remove it, which might suggest I’m willing to stay a while. Gallo isn’t about to make this easy on me, placing me in the spotlight of those brutal gray eyes as he sits directly across from me, but the fact that he keeps his coat on as well gives me hope this will be short, if not sweet.
“Good news,” Gallo announces, focusing solely on me. “We got a hit on your prints. As you know, your name is Rae Eleana, but I have the last name as well. It’s—”
“Ward,” Kayden supplies. “We were actually out celebrating her returned memory.”
He stares at Kayden, his look a blade of ice. “Funny. I thought you were celebrating getting out of jail,” he says, sharply shifting his attention back to me. “Just this morning you didn’t remember more than your first name.”
“I had a dream that was a trigger. My doctor said that’s normally how it happens. And some of the swelling in my brain may have gone down.” I press my lips together, having no idea where that came from, before I say something wrong.
“Interesting timing,” he says dryly. “What doctor?”
I bristle at the nosy question laced with accusation. “That’s rather personal, detective.”
He grimaces and leans closer. “What do you remember?”
“My name and that I’m from Texas. I know who my employer was, or rather ex-employer. I quit my job to travel.”
“And your parents?”
My shock and offense over his bringing up a topic that would upset me, if my file weren’t fictional, is not feigned. I hope. “Why would you go there? You have to know their loss is raw. In truth, that’s probably what I was trying to shut out with my amnesia.”
His lips press together. “I’m sorry.” He’s not convincing, but rather responding to being put in his place. “Why don’t I take you to the passport office tomorrow to get your passport replaced? I can help cut through the red tape.”
“I can handle it,” Kayden assures him. “I’m good at cutting through red tape, as you saw today. We both know I didn’t threaten you.” His arm lifts from around me and he leans forward, his powerful forearms resting on the table. “By the way. While you were trying to trump up ridiculous charges against me this afternoon, your boss begged me to work for him again.”
Gallo stands, his hands pressed to the table, his stance a threat, his glower a promise. Kayden’s lips quirk in feigned amusement. “Problem, detective?”
“You are not above the law.”
“Neither are you. Don’t let bitterness turn you into something you don’t recognize as you anymore.”
“Speaking from experience, are you?”
“Damn straight, man. Let this go.”
Gallo glares at Kayden and I hold my breath until he says, “No.” Nothing more. Just . . . no, and then he pushes off the table and heads for the door. And while he might be leaving, and my identity has been protected, dread and certainty fill my gut. He’s coming for Kayden and he won’t stop until someone ends up dead. I am left with one question. What did Kayden do to create this kind of hatred in this man?
The silence between Kayden and me is absolute as Gallo disappears into the night, my unasked question in the air, a pin about to drop. Kayden doesn’t let it fall, but neither does he face me as he speaks. “Just before Callisto—Adriel and Giada’s father—died, I aligned The Underground with the police department, trying to take us to as ethical a place as I could get us. Not an easy task when the money wasn’t what my people expected to get paid. My contact for our first job was Gallo and a woman named Cira.” He hesitates. “I fucked her. She was just a nameless escape that would be gone when the job was over. I had no idea she and Gallo were in a relationship. She didn’t tell me and there were no signs.”
“So this is all because you were with his woman?”
He looks at me, his expression taut with the promise of more to the story. Something bad. Really bad. “Gallo walked in on us. He and I fought. She left in a fit of tears and proceeded to have a car accident.”
“Oh God,” I murmur, feeling the blood run from my face. “Please tell me this doesn’t end how I think it does.”
“I wish I could. She died, and he blames me.”
“But you didn’t kill her. It was just one of those horrific things that happen in life. His anger is illogical.”
“A need for revenge is rarely logical, but too often it feels like the salve that will heal the wound.” There is deep understanding in those words that make them more a confession than a statement. “He thinks he needs it to survive.”
“Does he?” I ask, and I’m not talking about Gallo any more than he is.
“Yes. He does.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I leave it alone. “You aren’t going to take the job you mentioned, are you?”
He laughs without humor. “No. My people would dethrone me if I went down that path again. No matter how any of us frame our hunts as honorable, it’s always about money.”
“Is it to you?”
“I have more money than I know what to do with as it is.”
“It’s about Kevin.”
“It’s about a lot of things, none of them money.”
Revenge. I think he’s just told me it’s about revenge, and I want to ask for more, but he stands and faces me, offering me his hand, and I have this sense of the gesture being his silent question. Am I still with him? Has he scared me away? Perhaps that’s why he told me the story, but it hasn’t worked. His honesty, his willingness to share what is not easy to speak about, let alone live with, has done nothing but draw me closer to the flame that is the fire in this man. I slide my palm against his and he helps me to my feet, and when our gazes meet, I see in his eyes what I know myself. My decision to stay with him is a choice, and good, bad, or ugly, I’m staying with Kayden Wilkens. We’re both destined to live with the consequences that may follow.
seventeen
Kayden answers my silent reply by cupping the back of my head and kissing me hard and fast before wrapping my hand in his and leading me to the exit. We step outside and I shiver with the night that has turned colder, and Kayden responds, cocooning me in the warmth and shelter of his body, but I think that it’s him who needs shelter.
We fall into easy steps together, silence settling between us in that comfortable way it had over dinner last night. Blocks pass, and even with the absence of conversation, I can feel the heaviness of his
thoughts, but I also believe he just needs me to be with him. I know this, and I don’t know why but I have this sense of togetherness with him that, beyond the emptiness of my past, I do not believe I have had before in my life. Even if I have, what matters is this man, and having it with him.
His cell phone rings, and for some reason, the sound fills me with dread. Without his pace faltering or his arm moving from my shoulders, he digs it from his pocket, answering the call and listening a moment before replying in Italian. It’s a quick, terse exchange that ends when we reach the entrance to the castle, his expression unreadable as he releases me to slide the phone back into his pocket and punch in a code to open the gate.
“Two-seven-two-seven,” he says, giving me the gate code, and I remove my phone from my purse and type it into the notes.
“Got it,” I say, as we cross to the private grounds of the castle. “I’ll delete it once I get all these numbers straight in my head.”
He hits a button to close the gate and wraps his arm around mine as we begin the walk toward the front door.
“I’m not trying to be nosy, but please just tell me that call wasn’t bad news.”
“You aren’t being nosy. You’re being concerned about one of my men, and that will never upset me. Matteo pinged Enzo’s phone and hacked his email. There’s been no activity in twelve hours.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“If you don’t want to be found, you go radio silent. It could be a choice, but it still means he’s in trouble.”
“You didn’t get to tell me what the job was. Can you? Will you?”
He hesitates. “Recovering a stolen piece of art.”
“You didn’t seem to want to tell me that, but it sounds like a reasonable job. Why didn’t you want him to take it?”
“Because the man who stole it has connections to a drug cartel. I finally agreed that he could commission the hunt, on the condition that he do nothing but find the painting and report the location to the client, without recovering it.”
“You think he tried to recover it.”
“He’s young, and as most young men do, he thinks he’s immortal. So yes. That’s what I think.”
A drop of rain hits my nose, and I stupidly look up to be splattered in the face. “Come on,” he says, grabbing my hand as we launch into a run and rush up the castle steps, reaching the overhang just in time to avoid a downpour.
“This is a crazy amount of rain,” I say, wiping off my coat. “You’d think it was rainy season in Paris.” I go still, and Kayden arches a brow. “Paris,” I whisper. “Kayden, I know Paris.”
“During rainy season,” he adds. “Matteo did a broad sweep for the name Ella, but I’ll have him hyper-focus on Paris. Do you remember anything else?”
“Of course not. Why would I make this easy on us? I don’t even know where that comment came from.”
“It’s a seed that might grow, and that’s better than no seed at all.” He snags my fingers. “Come here. I want to teach you how to get in the door.”
“I need a lesson?” I ask, letting him put me between him and the door. “Is it that complicated?”
“Not complicated, but there is a specific process or you’ll set off the alarms.” He taps the panel by the door. “First the code.” He keys it in. “Two-seven-one-one.” He holds up a key. “Then the lock. If you do it the opposite way, it won’t work.”
“And the alarm sounds.”
“Exactly.” He unlocks the door and flattens the key into my hand, curling my fingers around it. “That’s yours. You and I are the only two people who have access to enter through this door. Don’t tell anyone the codes and don’t let anyone use your key.”
“Not even the people who live in the castle?”
“That’s right. This way, if one tower is breached, the others aren’t.”
“You don’t trust Adriel or Giada.”
“Trust isn’t high on my list, and I don’t like people in my private space.”
The significance of that statement being his bringing me to his tower immediately, and my oversight earlier today. “Then I should tell you that I let Giada hang out with me in our tower. I didn’t let her go anywhere but the living room.”
His eyes glint steel. “I don’t want her there.”
“Why, Kayden? She’s just a young girl.”
“I don’t always have a reason, just a gut feeling, and they never fail me.” He changes the subject, making it clear he doesn’t want to talk about Giada. “Let’s go to bed.” He pauses and softens his voice. “Together.”
Together. It is a word I do not believe he knows well, but he offers it to me, the certainty warming me in places beyond my skin. “Together,” I repeat, sealing what feels like a deal.
The flecks of deeper blue in his eyes tell me that he is pleased with my reply, and as he had in the bar, he reaches around me and opens the door. Nervous energy spikes through me and I enter the castle; my feet carry me to the center of the foyer, where my gaze lands on the center tower steps. I swallow a knot in my throat at the knowledge that death occupies the rooms above. I wonder if Elizabeth felt safe here. I wonder if Kayden thought he could protect her. I wonder if he even knew that at that stage of his career, with Kevin still alive, he needed to protect her. And I wonder if this place is haunted by ghosts, or just the heartache of loss.
Kayden steps to my side, his gaze following mine. “We lived in that tower together for all of three months before they were slaughtered there like animals, which is why I hate every inch of it. I kept it sealed for three years.”
I shiver at the words “slaughtered like animals” and I turn to him. “You have no idea who did it?”
“No,” he says, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “But if it had been about me, they would have come for me, too, and believe me, I wish they had.”
“If not about you, then Kevin?”
“It had to have been about something he was involved with, and Elizabeth just happened to be here when they came to kill him. She wasn’t a Hunter. She was a fashion designer by trade, who made me feel like my life was a little more normal. I met her at a retail store, looking for a gift for Marabella.”
“She gave you an escape from this world.”
“She hated The Underground and I pulled back from it because of that.” He hardens his voice to pure steel. “You need to know that won’t happen again. Had I been more involved with what Kevin was doing, I might have stopped it from happening. And so we’re clear: not only do I hate that fucking tower, I hate your being in it. Let’s go upstairs.” He walks to the door dividing the main foyer from our tower and punches in the code.
I hesitate, unmoving in the aftermath of his obvious anger. But it is not at me, though I have obviously stirred to life demons he hasn’t fully restrained. And while I am not sure what that means for us long term, I do know he needs someone to anchor him to the present and drive away the past, if only for tonight.
Crossing to stand next to him, I dare to link my elbow with his and say, “I hate that tower, too.”
He disengages our arms and wraps his around my neck and brings my chest to his, his breath a warm tease on my lips. “That was the right thing to say,” he declares, his mouth slanting over mine for a quick, deep kiss, the taste of his lingering anger spiking my taste buds and then fading as he releases me and leads me across the threshold to our tower. We pause just on the other side, and when he hits a button to close our door I have this sense of us being sealed in our own private world, at least for the rest of this night.
Side by side, we start up the stairs, barely touching when I want us to be touching everywhere. But the higher we climb, the more uncertain I become of what comes next, the memory of him leaving me alone in his bed sharply etched in my mind. Even more so, the certainty that no matter where we lie tonight, he is not a man to be held on to. He will leave. Or I will leave, and I can’t fall for him. But I am, I so am, and I can’t seem to care what kind of danger lies in
the path to fully realizing all I can be, and feel, with this man. He halts at the main level, his hand sliding away from mine, a question in his action. Am I coming with him or not? But there is more. Am I afraid? Can I handle who, and what, he is? He is asking me to make the decision. There really is no real question in my mind about where I’m going, and where I want to be this night, and the way he can demand, command, and still offer me freedom seals my desire for this man.
I start walking toward his room and he falls into step with me, my pulse quickening with each inch we travel, until he opens the door and I step inside. He follows, flipping a lock into place and punching a button on the wall beside us. The fireplace across the room flames into life in response, and while the room is cold, my skin heats as he touches me again, leaning me against the door, towering over me.
But, much to my distress, his hands fall away, flattening on the wall on either side of me, signaling that a mindless escape isn’t as close as I’d hoped. “Before we go any further,” he says, “you need to understand exactly what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I told you at the bar. I’m not afraid of The Underground.”
“I’m talking about what I am and what motivates me. I wasn’t ready to tell you what happened five years ago, but you know now, which means you need to understand what it was and what it means to me. What happened to Kevin and Elizabeth was no car accident. It wasn’t an accident at all. It was murder. And make no mistake, if I find out who did it, I will kill them, and it will be with zero remorse. Just like I’ll kill anyone who threatens you with zero remorse. Make sure you can live with that, because I damn sure can.” He pushes off the wall and leaves me standing there as he disappears into the bathroom.
I inhale, barely able to breathe for the intensity of his emotions slamming into me. Yes, he has given me honesty, but I am certain this is driven by the same kind of doubt in him I’d felt walking up the stairs. He is trying to scare me, to push me away. But he has failed. No matter how brutal those words are, they are real. He is real, the wolf who doesn’t bother with the sheep’s clothing I’d first seen at the hospital, and his realness is part of his appeal. I need that. I think he does too, but maybe he needs to know that I come with no demands or expectations for a Happily Ever After I know he can’t give me and I’m not sure I even believe exists anyway. At least not for people like him and me.